Switch
by Lu82
Summary: If I really fell in love it would be only you, the last night in the world, I would spend it with you.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything, everything belongs to those wonderful angels/demons named Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (R.I.P. :'( )_

_Hello, people, this is a very weird idea that crossed my mind and I decided to turn it into a fanfic… ^^'_

_There's a beautiful Italian song by Tiziano Ferro called 'L'ultima notte al mondo' = 'The last night in the world' which inspired this fic A LOT , I'll put both Italian and translated lyrics okay? ;)_

_Last but not least: I need a beta, anyone offers? ^^'  
_  
Summary: If I really fell in love it would be only you, the last night in the world, I would spend it with you.

**Switch**

Crowley and Aziraphale watch that odd International Express Delivery man go away. He's just one of the many victims who now came back to life after _The-Apocalypse-That-Never-Was_.

Aziraphale is watching him also with a tiny hint of rancor: damn this man's fussiness! He has taken his sword away. Again! Aziraphale was so close to get it back once for all.  
On the other hand, he also thinks he'll never need such a powerful weapon again. Perhaps.  
Something tells him that even if the world didn't end, it's not over yet. Maybe even worst things still have to come.

Also Crowley thinks so, while he's tossing in his hands the strip of paper with the last nice and accurate Agnes Nutter's prophecy.

**Ye must choose your faces wisely for soon enough you will be playing with fire.**

What the heck does it mean?  
As he's busting his brains over that issue, he recalls the delivery man and his short but meaningful speech.  
He has a wife to get home to, he has someone who is waiting for him, someone who will be surely happy to see him again.  
What about Crowley? Who does he have?  
Well, sure, he's got an angel who he managed to persuade to stay at his place, for that night, only telling him the truth.

They have no bosses anymore. They have no more factions to fight for, save for their own faction. The two of them against the universe.  
It's something that should make them feel unstoppable, unwinnable, happy and united as never before.  
Instead, both of them feel like there's an invisible but also unbreakable wall between them.  
And they feel cold, so much cold.  
Although it's a late summer night, although they have drunk a lot of wine, sharing the same bottle, sipping from the very same spot.  
Because, after six thousand years, you definitely reach this kind of confidence.

From afar, they see the unaware bus arriving. It's heading towards Oxford and the bus driver doesn't know yet that he's going to take them to London.  
They get in and Aziraphale slides close to Crowley's seat, skimming him.  
And yet the closeness of their human bodies doesn't coincide with the one of their minds and even less with the one of their hearts.  
A blanket of frost wraps them. The cold is so intense that, even if there's not anything like that, they both seem to see copious snowflakes falling on the ground, cancelling everything they touch. 

_(Cade la neve ed io non capisco)  
Snow is falling and I don't know  
(Che sento davvero, mi arrendo)  
What I really feel, I give up,  
(Ogni riferimento è andato via)  
Every reference is gone...  
(Svaniti i marciapiedi e le case e colline)  
Footpaths, houses and hills have disappeared...  
__(Sembrava bello ieri )  
It looked good yesterday.  
(Ed io, io sepolto dal suo bianco, mi specchio)_

_And I, buried under its whiteness, I see myself in the mirror  
(E non so più che cosa sto guardando)  
and I don't know what I'm looking at anymore._

Even after six thousand years, Crowley remembers their first meeting as if it was yesterday. The very first meeting with his angel, the way he immediately behaved so kindly towards him, the way he didn't like submitting to rules, not when they interfered with other people's good.  
And he perfectly remembers his smile. So clumsy. So awkward. So shy. So incredibly genuine.

_(Ho incontrato il tuo sorriso dolce)  
I've met your sweet smile,  
(Con questa neve bianca, adesso mi sconvolge)  
Now it upsets me along with this white snow,  
(La neve cade e cade pure il mondo)  
Snow is falling and the world is falling too,  
(Anche se non è freddo adesso quello che sento)  
Even if it's not cold what I feel now,  
(E ricordati, ricordami)  
And remember, remember me:  
(Tutto questo coraggio non è neve)  
All this courage isn't snow.  
(E non si scioglie mai, neanche se deve)  
And it never melts, even if it should._

When they first met, there wasn't snow, there was rain. The very first day ever of rain. Crowley was so impressed when he realized that something was preventing him from getting wet and turning he found out it was Aziraphale's wing.  
He would never expect such a thing from an angel, even less from a Principality.  
Aziraphale has always been the exception that confirms the rule.

But Crowley has never found the courage to say all these things to his angel, to tell him what he means to him, how he makes him feel.  
He had always covered his feelings with playful flirts that the angel has not ever truly understood.

"Okay, the bus driver was supposed not to realize that, but at least you should notice that we arrived to your house." the angel's gentle voice takes his mind off.  
Well, his words haven't been so gentle after all; with that necessity to point out 'your house'.  
Can't it simply be 'home' for them both?  
"You're right. Let's get off." Crowley shrugs, showing him the way.  
It's funny how, after all the visits and raids to Aziraphale's bookshop, this is the first time Crowley shows him his house.  
It's not that many people has seen that place and certainly Crowley can't consider himself the most welcoming host: about the last two individuals who stepped into his house… one has remained stuck on the floor, inside an unpleasant black stain he has not managed to remove yet. Not that he's so willing to approach to that spot, there could still be some drops of holy water.

Aziraphale follows the demon in deep silence, observing every corner of that apartment.  
It feels like a cozy place after all, despite all those dark colors of the walls and the floors. There's just some dark red furniture such as Crowley's elegant armchair and the marble table.  
Aziraphale has been particularly fascinated by a spinning wall that hides the large room where Crowley keeps his marvelous and inestimable collection of luxuriant plants.  
Ultimately, Aziraphale considers that that place has been decorated with a very good test and a lot of style.  
After all, Style could be Crowley's second name. Or rather the fourth one. First there's Anthony, followed by that J.

Aziraphale must be honest with himself: he has always liked Crowley's eccentricity.  
Eccentric was the way he appeared to him, removing the snake disguise and chatting him up so naturally. Not even the other angels have ever acted with the Principality like that.  
Eccentric was the deal that more than once Crowley has suggested to him and Aziraphale more than once rejected, among quarrels, before finally accepting it.  
Pretending to neutralize each other has only brought them closer, year after year, century after century and millennium after millennium.  
Eccentric was his proposal to save the world with the angel.  
Even more eccentric is the fact that they actually succeeded.  
Eccentric is his behavior, so gentle, but only towards him.

How many things has Crowley done for him? How many times did he rescue him? How many times did he come back to him, with a smile and a peace offering, after Aziraphale had pushed him away in the most unpleasant ways? 

_(Cose che spesso si dicono improvvisando)  
Things which are often said improvising:  
(Se mi innamorassi davvero saresti solo tu)  
If I really fell in love it would be only you,  
(L'ultima notte al mondo, io la passerei con te)  
The last night in the world, I would spend it with you  
(Mentre felice piango)  
While I weep tears of joy  
(E solo io, io posso capire al mondo)  
And I'm the only one, the only one who's able to understand  
(Quanto è inutile odiarsi nel profondo!)  
How much it's useless to hate each other deeply in this world!  
_

He told Crowley that they were hereditary enemies, he has called him 'foul fiend'(even if, immediately after that, Aziraphale has showed him the sweetest smile ever), he stated that they were from opposite factions… once Aziraphale has brought himself to tell him he doesn't even like him! How could such an unexpectedly good demon bear him again after all Aziraphale has put him through?  
Truth is that Aziraphale has kept pushing Crowley away only due to fear. Fear of love.  
Because Aziraphale is sure he's been in love with Crowley since that night in 1941 when, even burning his feet a little, Crowley has rescued both him and his precious books.  
But if Aziraphale thinks better, maybe he already loved Crowley when he rescued him from the guillotine.  
Or maybe when Aziraphale has tried to tempt him to eat oysters, stealing that job that was supposed to be the demon's one? And the amused way Crowley has been staring at him all the time… oh, Aziraphale recalls that very well.  
Or maybe did Aziraphale love him when he saw him so shocked, mostly due to the kids issue, during the Great Flood?

Nope. Probably Aziraphale has already been in love with him since Crowley – Well, _Crawly _back to those days -has stared at him in such an amazed way after Aziraphale confessed that he has given his flaming sword away? He still can easily recall how the demon has opened wide his big, bright yellow, snake eyes. Aziraphale has such a soft spot for his eyes.

Aziraphale has a very bad feeling about Crowley and he's afraid that that could be the last night they can spend together.  
Does he really want to spend it in that way? Among heavy silences and unspoken things?

"Do you want wine, angel?" the demon offers, opening a closet.  
"Crowley, I'm afraid for you!" he almost shouts, startling the demon.  
"So am I, for you!" the other strikes back, without a second thought.

Aziraphale stares at him puzzled.  
"For me? Why? Okay, maybe there will be a little punishment, but nothing so tragic!" he tries to reassure him, but he can't take his mind off the last events of those days, when Uriel and Sandalphon attacked him outside his bookshop, so easily, without any remorse.  
Maybe, after all, the good ones are not so good as he has always believed. 

"I wouldn't be so sure, angel. We screwed it up this time. I'm afraid that you won't get away with it only with a demerit. Not this time."  
Crowley is staring at him deeply, without his sunglasses, because with his angel he can be utterly and freely himself.  
"It's you who could go through a lot! Your people, _they're hard nuts up_, there. They won't stop at nothing! I'm so scared that they could cross the line with you!" Aziraphale tries to warn him.  
"You know what? I also fear that they could save for me the same treatment I gave to Ligur…" Crowley grumbles, pointing at the entrance.  
"I don't even want to see that damn thing!" Aziraphale snaps, making the rest of the killed demon go away with a nervous gesture of his arm.  
"Thank you. I was so sick of seeing that!" Crowley tries to defuse the situation, but fails.  
"I can't allow them to do such a thing. I would never ever forgive me for that." the angel shouts desperate, holding his head in his hands.

Crowley approaches to him, attempting to pat his shoulder.  
"There, there, angel, don't act this way. You'll see, I'll get away with it…" he murmurs, but he's the first one to have serious doubts about that.

Aziraphale bursts out crying.  
"This is so unfair! There must be a way to stop them! Oh, Crowley, if only I could go there, instead of you… holy water would be only a pleasure to me…" he rants, before reflecting on what he has just said.  
And Crowley is doing the same.

Like a thunderbolt, realization hits them both and they stare at each other with such a complicity that can only increase after all those millenniums. 

"Choose your faces …" Crowley recites that prophecy out loud.  
"Wisely." Aziraphale adds, feeling as hopeful as never before. "That's what we must do."

There's still something that doesn't convince Crowley. That prophecy mentioned even something about playing with fire… and they're talking about holy water… but maybe it's only because Agnes has always loved to be so impossibly enigmatic.

"So, how do you think we should get it done, angel?" he wonders, puzzled.  
"I have no idea, darling. I've never done such a thing before…" Aziraphale grumbles but he still looks very determined. "I think… I think it's enough to touch each other, like this!" he goes on, grabbing the demon's hand. "That's it. Now, close your eyes and wish you could be me the way I wish I could be you!" he tries to instruct him. 

Crowley trusts him. The two creatures concentrate deeply on that miracle and even before opening their eyes, they can feel some fluids and energy pass through each other.  
They stare at each other satisfied, because each one can see himself. 

"It worked." Crowley smiles but he does that with the angel's features and Aziraphale stares intently at him.  
Is it really so tender the way he smiles at Crowley every time? No wonder the demon has always searched for his company, then!  
Crowley watches amused his same own expression so dazed. He can't help wondering how many time he showed his angel such a face.

"Speak to me with my voice. I've already tried to do that with yours and it feels so cool." Crowley murmurs.  
Aziraphale pleases him, but not to say something affectionate.  
"There's no time for games, Crowley!" Aziraphale grows nervous.

Because, that's true, that may be a neat trick; but the risk to take is too big and that could still really be the last night he'll spend with Crowley. The very last night he sees him.

"So do I really sound like that when I grow nervous?" Crowley giggles.  
He's always been the less rational of the two of them, that's why he's still so entertained by the whole situation.  
"Please, dear, can we sit down?" the angel asks him, with a more placid tone, while he looks for something that can be like a sofa, but the most proper thing seems to be the golden and red armchair.

Crowley obeys, sitting in first. Taking advantage of his actual body that makes him feel very much lighter, Aziraphale sits on the demon's legs, with a snake-like grace, passing his arm around Crowley's neck in order to balance himself better.

"Why haven't' I sit down like this for all this time?" the demon with the angel's features whispers to him, without even trying to hide how much he's enjoying that.  
And maybe is in that so encouraging look of Crowley's that Aziraphale finds the necessary motivation.

"I know, dear, I've been saying or all these centuries that you and I fraternize…" Aziraphale starts his speech and Crowley makes an annoyed face hearing that so unpleasant word, but Aziraphale does not lose his determination  
"But have you ever searched the meaning of that verb in a dictionary, in _my_ dictionary?"  
Saying that, the angel with the demon's features makes a dictionary appear, flipping through the pages until he almost reaches the end of the 'F' session.  
When he finds the verb 'Fraternize' he adds a blank space under the previous definitions, in order to write his own.  
He licks his index and a little spark comes out and with that he writes his sentences with flaming letters that don't make the dictionary burn for real.

"Wow, writing with fire is such a cool experience!" the angel giggles, before reprimanding himself. "Oops, I'm not supposed to talk like this … that's what I get for being in your body!" he pretends to complain, making Crowley laugh, but that laughter dies in his throat when he reads that definition:

Fraternize: To do everything in your power in order to spend as much time as possible with that only one person (or supernatural entity, if you prefer) who understands you better than anyone else, who makes your days better, who makes you feel complete, who makes you feel lost if he's missing, because he has become your world.

Crowley rereads it several times, before staring at his angel.  
There are tears that are falling from the demon's now cerulean blue eyes.  
Without even waiting for his consent, Crowley pushes himself against Aziraphale, for a fleeting kiss that has only the task of test the waters.  
Aziraphale looks at him with his now golden amber eyes widened out, with dilated snake pupils.  
He would expect every reaction from Crowley but not a kiss.

TBC

_Get ready for the last (and hottest) part ;)  
I really hope you like it. Usually I write much funnier stuff, also because I'm not that good with introspection ^^' but this fic popped in my head that way so… I've just tried.  
I hope it won't sound too confusing, especially in next part, also Italian readers said they had some trouble during some parts, lol ^^'  
Did I ever say I need a beta, didn't I?_

_Whatever you think, feel free to tell me, please._


	2. Chapter 2

(Part II)

"Oh, Aziraphale, why didn't you just say it before? We could have spared millenniums of denial of our feelings towards each other."

A bright smile lights the angel's face, as he twiddles with the demon's blond curls.  
"Did you really say 'our feelings towards each other'?" He wavers, before getting as answer the most angelic smile ever.  
"Come here, you, ninny angel!" Crowley giggles, before kissing him again.

This time is not just a little pressure against his lips, Crowley wants to takes his time for everything.  
He tastes the other's lips. There are still some traces of lipstick on them, he gently nibbles them, waiting for Aziraphale to accept that invasion of his mouth.

Even if it's weird and rather disturbing, everything is so natural between them.

Aziraphale parts his lips, allowing their tongues to meet for the very first time; but, as it's easy to figure out, it's the angelic tongue the most experienced one.

The angel in disguise learns quickly and mirrors the other's actions.  
The kiss becomes more and more intense, just like their mutual desire to have more physical contact.  
Without breaking the kiss, their hands move from each other's hair. Aziraphale's ones try shyly to slip under the shirt, cursing the waistcoat and all the oher clothes that are obstaculating him.  
Without even noticing, Aziraphale snaps his fingers, sort of frustrated and Crowley finds himself bare-chested, now with more curvy and soft forms, but not less appealing, quite the contrary.  
He smiles against his lover's lips.

Crowley's hands grabs Aziraphale's ass, now skinnier, he would like more meat to play with.  
Crowley lovingly removes that silver lanyard used as a sort of tie from Aziraphale's neck and made all the buttons of the black shirt jump, tugging at it violently.

"No, dear, your shirt!" The angel interrupts their kiss, astonished by such ardor.  
"The hell with it, I mean the heaven with it… I mean something with it! Whatever, I can miracle a new one, later!" Crowley mutters, eager to kiss him again.

Their tongues play for a while, before Crowley moves towards Aziraphale's neck and the angel stretches it, in order to give him as much access as possible. He goes on kissing and licking it, forcing himself not to leave any hickey because it would make people suspicious.  
When he reaches his ear, teasing the point and the lobe with his teeth, the angel wriggles in pleasure.  
"Oh, my God! No, I can't' say that… Oh, Satan! Geez, this is even worse! Oh, you!" Aziraphale moans in confusion, making Crowley laugh.

Crowley stops 'torturing' him in that way, giving both his lover and himself a break.  
"We should stop here, angel, otherwise I won't be responsible for my actions anymore."

Hearing suh words, said with his own voice, with his own look so full of lust, as if he has never seen it, it's a mix that triggers a bomb inside Aziraphale.  
With sinuous attitude, he moves from the armchair and arches his back against the marble table, pulling Crowley to himself and making the demon in disguise lay upon himself.

"You're not... I mean, I'm not as heavy as I thought…" Aziraphale grumbles, puzzled, but determined to go further.  
"Oh, my silly, silly angel, you're so damn perfect!" Crowley chuckles with Aziraphale's voice, before lifting from him and staring in those golden snake eyes that cannot lie to him.  
"Are you really sure?"  
With a leap, the angel pushes himself towards Crowley, wrapping his arms around his neck.  
"My dear, if it's you showing me that, I can't fear anything."

"Okay, at least let me do things properly." Crowley mutters, before lifting him in his arms to take him in another room.

"I really appreciate your initiative, but, as your very first time, I'd like to spare you the hardness of the cold marble." He chuckles, reaching his bedroom and placing Aziraphale on his king size bed with deep red sheets.  
"This is definitely softer." Aziraphale beams. "However, I guess it's pretty easy to lift me if now I'm you!" he teases the other but Crowley silences him with a long kiss.  
"You, idiot! I'm going to lift you even when you'll switch back to the wonderful you." The demon murmurs, taking good care of his ear once more.

"Crowleeeyyy!" Aziraphale moans, feeling an unfamiliar heat in the lower abdomen.  
"And you have seen nothing yet!" Crowley sneers with features that are too malicious to belong to an angel.

Without showing any resistance, Aziraphale lets Crowley takes off the black shoes and black jeans, realizing too late that he's not wearing any underwear.  
"But.."  
"Don't you think everything is more practical this way?" Crowley murmurs seductively, grabbing his member and starting to pump it.  
"This is weird… it's almost as if I was masturbating myself!" The demon states, but doesn't stop anyway.  
"I'm ssssoooooo excited I can't just be asssssshamed!" Aziraphale amazes him with his answers, mostly because he's hissing.  
"Angel, I'd never thought you could be so filthy…" the demon teases him, before resuming his activity, determined to give as much pleasure as possible to his sweet angel with his hands and mouth, also because he already knows his most sensitive spots.

When his tongue touches a very sensitive spot above, Aziraphale can't help it and bestows all his pleasure on a tissue that Crowley made appear at the last moment.  
Aziraphale 's moans are driving Crowley crazy.  
"If I had been really myself, I wouldn't have wasted such a sweet nectar." the demon murmurs but he's satisfied anyway by that experience.  
Aziraphale pulls him towards himself, without caring about what that mouth has just done.  
"My sweet, kind demon." He murmurs against his lips and for once Crowley doesn't protest.

He's rather astonished when Aziraphale pushes him, down on the bed, assaulting the cream coloured trousers that end up thrown on the floor.  
He also gets rid of the white boxers, more than determined to return the favor ad show Crowley all the things he thinks he has already learned.  
And he proves to be a brilliant student, because, instead of immediately reaching the main goal, he has his fun torturing the demon a little, testing all the pleasure he can give to his lover with his current tongue.

He spends a lot of time on the oh-so-sensitive nipples.

"Angel, angel, angel…" Crowley keeps moaning in delight, showing his appreciation.

Aziraphale traces a path of wet kisses down the abdomen and the roundish tummy, without being even remotely disgusted.  
Aziraphale is finally learning to accept and appreciate his own body, also judging by the way Crowley - now in Aziraphale's body -is enjoying that .  
Aziraphale reaches the trail covered with few blond hair and then he meets his cock, already fully erect.  
"See angel, how bloody good you're at this? This is the effect you have on me. Don't stop." Crowley, with eyes closed and hoarse voice.  
And the angell doesn't stop at all, until he reaches the same results the demon has previously reached with him.

There's no more need for words, all it takes is just their languid eyes and the unpteenth kiss, before moving to the next phase, the most craved, the most satisfying one.  
Crowley places himself between Aziraphale's legs, while the angel lays down with his back on the mattress, watching him.  
Crowley prepares Aziraphale, before sliding inside him, as sweetly as possible.  
The angel welcomes joyfully every of the demon's pushes, making him understand that not only he can go on but he must increase the rhythm, moving their pelvis in synchrony.  
As their bodies become one, they realise that maybe love is the most powerful weapon they can resort to.  
In Hell the other demons don't know what feelings are. In Heaven the other angels are sure they know and they're even unbearably pedantic about it.

_Amare non è un privilegio, è solo abilità,  
(To love is not a privilege, it's just a capability)_

_è ridere di ogni problema…  
(It's to laugh about every problem)_

_mentre chi odia trema.  
(While the ones who hate tremble)_

After giving themselves to each other, the angel and the demon remain there, still and silent for a while, enjoying the moment.  
Skin against skin. Mouth against mouth. Heart against heart.

They're telling 'I love you' with their eyes much more than they could do with words.

"Okay angel, let's put our clothes on, it's time for a little test, to see if this thing can work." Crowley suggests and that's what they do.

"Great, who are we going to pay a visit to? The graceful lady of the book? Her clumsy fiancé? Or the lovely Madame Tracy?" Aziraphale asks him, eagerly.  
"Are you nuts? It's four o'clock a.m., at this time of the day no one would be lovely with us." the demon explains.  
"Okay, so where are we going?" the angel frowns.

Crowley makes him cross the revolving door that leads to his plants.  
"They're so more clever than you think." Crowley whispers at his ear. "Let me start first."

He trots around the plans, a joyful expression on his face, as he caresses their leaves reverently.  
"Good evening, lovely plants. Pardon this improper time of the day, but I was so eager to meet you. You all are just as marvellous as your master says and I'm sure you'll grow even better." He murmurs with a sugary voice.

All the plants remain still, almost sedated by such a sweet voice and his oh-so-kind words.  
Winking, Crowley lets Aziraphale know it's his turn and the angel doesn't want to let him down, of course.

With clouchy steps that echo around the room and sudden moves, he examines every plant, one by one.  
Until he finds what he was looking for.  
"Is a hint of a yellow leaf what I'm seeing here?" He growls, reaching a small plat in a corner. "How many times did I tell you I CAN'T tolerate such a lack of respect? After all I do for you, is this the way to repay me?" Aziraphale roars furiously, grabbing the little plant in the most disgraceful way possible. "Maybe a period of isolation will teach you some manners." He adds, on his way to take it away. "And this is the rule for every of you, if you keep let me down!" he shouts, leaving the room.

Crowley can't do nothing but applauding him.  
"I dare to say even better than the original one. I have never thought about the period of isolation!" He chuckles.  
Aziraphale put the plant on the floor and takes Crowley aside.  
"There's no need to do that for real, maybe you can take the little plant to ' Park for a bunch of days and then back here." He worries about the destiny of the plant.

"I love you, angel!" Crowley smiles at him, kissing him.  
"Oh, dear, I love you, too. If we go back to bed I'll show you."  
"Oh, you're so insatiable!" The other giggles.  
"Nooo, it's not what you think. I prefer to wait until I'll have my body back for doing that, it will be even better." He explains, caressing his face.  
"And we'll do that, because now I'm sure it's going to work." Crowley whispers.  
"Of course it is. We have to make up for so much lost time, my dear, so let's try to remain alive because I have every intention to do that!" Aziraphale makes Crowley laugh.

They go back to bed to spend the rest of the night together, hugged, cuddling without doing anything else, just like the angel desires and even as Crowley is beginning to appreciate.  
In perfect synchrony, they snap their fingers and outside London it starts snowing, which is very unusual, considering that time of the year.  
It's a symbolic snow and no one knows it better than them. They smile sweetly at each other, because the snow they had in their hearts has finally melted.

_Il tuo sorriso dolce è così trasparente  
(Your sweet smile is so transparent)_

_che dopo non c'è niente,  
(That there's nothing after that.)_

_è così semplice, così profondo  
(It's so simple and so deep)_

_che azzera tutto il resto e fa finire il mondo.  
(That resets everything and make the world end.)_

_E mi ricorda che il coraggio non è come questa neve.  
__(And it reminds me that brave is not like this snow.)_

_-  
_  
THE END

_I know it can be really confusing to read, but everything happens after the switch, so Crowley is in Aziraphale's body and vice versa and they made love anyway ;)_

_When I find time I'll also update 'Run, baby, run ' (which is fluffier and funnier than this one.. I don't know writing nc17 and introspection very well, lol)_

_p.s. If you also love Killgrave and are fans of the Jessica/Killgrave pairing, feel free to follow my fanfics about them… __I also have a crossover involving the Ineffable Husbands ;)_


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